Please Walk With Me
by Viscaria-Flora
Summary: You never realize what you have until you lose it, but by then it would be too late. Mizael took Durbe's company for granted, and can't cope with the fact that he may never see him again. MizaDoru, mentions of sex, and spoilers for episode 132 on.


I own nothing.

Only thing I can note here is spoilers for episode 132 on, I guess. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

He can't recall the last time he'd seen a blue sky here on Earth.

Mizael walked along the empty streets, which were once filled with humans, eyes locked on the pavement beneath his feet. The only sounds he could hear were the howling of the wind and the echoing of his footsteps. Ah, he used to hate the human world. No, he always did- he thought it was petty and humanity a curse of an existence. He loathed the thought of being a human in his previous life. He was a Varian; that much he was sure of.

And yet, it didn't sit well with him that the once lively city was now a deserted wasteland. Earth's destruction was essential for the survival of Varian world, but still… it just didn't seem right to see this place so... lifeless.

He stopped in his tracks and looked around. There weren't any humans in sight, not for miles. His goal now was to find Yuma and give him the Number he had received from Kaito when he dueled him on the moon. Having watched his friend die before him was very painful, but he was aware that he was not the first of them to go. No… there was one more before him…

"_Is something on your mind, Mizael?"_

_Mizael leaned his head back, shielding his eyes from the blinding sun. "Besides our goal to save Varian world? No." He glanced at his friend Durbe, who stood beside him looking down at the people below the building they stood on. "What about you? You're eyeing the humans in an odd manner."_

_Durbe looked up and at him, the sun's light gleaming across his glasses' lenses. Mizael realized he's wearing a perplexed look on his face and he can't help but smirk. "What? Not at all. What makes you say that?"_

_Perhaps now was not the time for a joke, and it was admittedly uncharacteristic of him, but the temptation was too strong to ignore. Mizael chuckled softly. "Don't play dumb. I saw the way you were admiring that human girl."_

_He expected the frown that spread across Durbe's face, but what stunned him (and perhaps melted the color off his face) was the tinge of pink that settled on his cheeks. "I have no idea what you're talking about."_

_Mizael's smile immediately faltered, and he had to resist the urge to smack his gray-haired friend upside the head. "So you were looking at a woman. Shame on you, Durbe!"_

"_I was not," he protested, folding his arms across his chest. He eyed the blond man warily, as if aware of his thoughts. "Let's not start fighting over a trivial matter. We need to discuss the ruins we have been seeing lately and the Numbers."_

_Mizael rolled his eyes. "Fine, but we'll talk about it more later."_

"_I pray we don't."_

Mizael paused, his chest feeling as though he had been holding his breath for a while. Why did he have that memory all of a sudden? He looked up and blinked; the building he stood beside was the one he was on when he had that conversation with Durbe. How coincidental.

He shook his head and tried to rid himself of thoughts of his friend. No, he shouldn't be thinking of him at a time like this. He shouldn't be thinking of anyone he had lost.

Yes… he lost Durbe.

He missed him dearly; his closest companion was gone forever, and he didn't even have a chance to say goodbye to him. But this was war, and like in all wars, there will be those who fall. It was a sad truth, but one no one could deny- or prevent.

He continued walking the lonely streets, kicking some trash around that crossed his path. He was glad no one was around to see him biting his lower lip, lowering his head and letting his hair cascade over his face. His chest was throbbing, and he didn't quite know why. It did this before, when he watched Kaito draw in his last breath, but this time, it was much worse. Ten times worse. Why, just because Durbe crossed his mind?

Please. That's something for a human to experience and suffer from, not him.

And yet… it _hurt._ This wasn't something he could just cast aside. It was hurting him. It made breathing all that much harder, and it put a huge weight on his back and shoulders, blurring his eyes with tears.

_Don't cry, you idiot,_ he thought bitterly to himself as he dried his eyes on his gloves, _Durbe would surely laugh at you._

But would he? Would his serious, stern, but caring and loyal friend laugh at him for feeling something normal? He supposed that's what he liked most about his companion, in that he was never mocked or made fun of for anything, and he could always express and be himself around him (unless he was about to hurt Vector, in which Durbe always stopped him). Surely he wouldn't make fun of him for feeling pain.

"_Does it hurt?"_

_Durbe bit his lower lip, arms wrapped around Mizael's neck as the blonde's hand massaged him in between his thighs. His face was flushed, and he was breathing heavily, tilting his head to the side as golden strands of hair tickled his cheeks. "N-no," he stammered, his legs trembling and threatening to clamp around the hand, "it doesn't hurt."_

_Mizael watched closely as Durbe's breathing became labored and his face and body became damp with sweat. Their shirts were tossed onto the floor during their experimental (yet strangely pleasing) kisses, Mizael exploring every inch of Durbe's body in an attempt to memorize every feature, every arch, every line, down to the color of his skin and his veins. He pressed his lips across the surface of his chest and stomach, intrigued at the sounds and movements the boy beneath him made. He sounded like he was in pain at times, and yet… he never was? Even as Mizael offered to stop, Durbe asked for more, and more he gave him, until he mentioned there was an unusual feeling radiating from his lower torso, in between his legs. Right as he reached down to stroke him, Durbe let out a low but needy moan, which both startled and excited Mizael._

"_Are you sure?" the blonde asked him softly, blue eyes searching through gray ones. "You don't look well…"_

_Durbe shook his head; it was easy to tell he was having a hard time thinking of what to say. "It's not that I'm unwell, it's just… I want more. It feels… good."_

_Mizael tilted his head, his hand slowing down in his strokes. "Good? That's all you have to say about it?"_

"_That's all I can say about it, really."_

_He frowned, but picked up the pace again, watching as the other's body moved in rhythm to the touches. "I see… I don't suppose it would be alright to ask you to do the same to me when we're done, would it?"_

_Durbe held back a sound and raked his hair from his face, unable to look Mizael in the eye (whether it was out of embarrassment or something else was beyond him). "Why wouldn't it be?"_

"_Just asking."_

_The gray-haired boy turned to give him a smile, reaching up to stroke his cheek. "It's fine. I don't mind it in the slightest… ah, if you don't mind…" He glanced away again, voice growing quiet; "I would like to take off my trousers."_

Another memory. Mizael gazed around again for a familiar building or place he used to be at. What made him remember such a thing this time? Nothing. He had never entered any of these buildings or explored any of these places before. Then why did he have this thought?

And why of him being so close to Durbe, as well?

He could remember the smile he gave him, the feel of his warm hand caressing his cheek, and the soft tone his voice was in. It made his heart flutter, and for a moment, the pain he was feeling in his chest had subsided. He didn't quite remember what had led them to have such an intimate moment, but it was an earlier memory (that much he was sure of), even earlier than the other memory he recalled not too long ago. How Durbe was back then, wrapped around Mizael's finger, asking for more of him, and then rewarding him with sweet kisses... it was a wonderful sight.

It was sad that he would never see him that way again.

Mizael's heart sank again and he clenched his fists. Why was he recalling pleasant memories? It only hurt more as reality hit him again, reminding him that his friend was never coming back to him. He gritted his teeth and fought back tears again, walking faster. He didn't know where he was going anymore. He just wanted away from the places that made him think of Durbe.

Several minutes had passed, and Mizael calmed down, returning to his normal walking speed and gazing around the area he had entered. It was a different part of the city, but nothing unfamiliar, to his dismay. He had been here before. Nothing worth catching his attention, nothing worth stopping to look at, he told himself... his interest was difficult for anything to pique- or so the case was, until he found himself face-to-face with the library. It was rather large, and of course empty, so he walked into the building, not sure what he was looking for but not wanting to leave either. The bookshelves were stacked to the brim with thousands and thousands of novels and stories just waiting to be opened. The entire building had a thin coating of dust settled on it, and Mizael tried not to breathe in the air so freely (lest he'd have a huge coughing fit). He had been here before, he recalled.

Of course, he had been here with Durbe.

"_Why do you come here so often as you do? It's too boring here."_

_Durbe glanced up at him from the pages of his book, slightly chuckling at the frown Mizael wore. "I like it here. It's peaceful and quiet, and it's filled to the brim with books."_

_Mizael almost snorted. "You and your books."_

_His friend tossed him a dirty look before returning to the novel. "You're more than welcome to leave if you're truly bored."_

"_I rather like it here. It's quiet, and free of Vector's presence." The blonde took a seat, placing his chin in his hand. "I just don't understand why it calls for you to come here so many times."_

_Durbe noted the page number he was on and closed the book. "The human world truly isn't that bad. You should learn to give it a chance, Mizael."_

_Mizael's frown slightly deepened. "You're starting to sound like Alit."_

"_Am I?" The gray-haired boy pushed his glasses up his nose, giving his friend eye contact. "I'm not sure if that's an insult or not."_

_Mizael tapped his fingernails on the wooden table they sat at, gazing blankly out the window and at a pair of birds flying above a shrub. "Take it however you like. I'm just talking to myself." He watched as the birds flew off into the sky, never to be seen again, and peeled his eyes away from the window and back to Durbe, who also had taken interest in looking through the glass to the outside world. "You know, it really isn't too bad, coming down to the human world, especially if it's to places like this."_

_Durbe turned back to Mizael with a smile, and the blonde could have sworn he heard a tone of amusement in his voice. "That's an odd thing for you to say. What made you change your mind?"_

_Mizael didn't see the point in lying. He lowered his hand and sat up straighter, gazing into Durbe's eyes; "It's mostly the fact that I'm always in your company. I enjoy coming here with you."_

_It was obvious he didn't expect such an answer. Durbe blinked, hesitant to respond for a moment. "… Really?"_

"_Yes, I do."_

Mizael held that same book Durbe had with him in his hands, tears streaming down his face and landing on the hard cover of the novel. He sunk down to his knees and hid his face behind the book, crying almost uncontrollably. He couldn't hold it back anymore; he missed him so much; the conversations, the color of his eyes, the warmth in his smiles, everything- everything about Durbe, he missed. He wanted it back, he wanted him back.

He'd give anything to walk with him again, even if just for one more time.

…

"I'm still here, Mizael. I haven't left you. Please don't cry, we will surely meet again. Until then, I'll still be by your side, fighting with you, even if you can't see me. Please, continue to walk with me."


End file.
